Sweet Desires, Evil Actions
by CannabilisticMarshmallow
Summary: All things that he had heard before. All things that brought him down, time and time again. All things that made him feel worthless, nothing, like he wanted to die. And, oh, he did. But he was too chicken. Instead he just tortured himself with what could be; painless darkness, nothingness.


"You mean nothing to anyone."

"You're worthless."

"You're a waste of air."

"Go do us a favour and kill yourself."

All things that he had heard before. All things that brought him down, time and time again. All things that made him feel worthless, nothing, like he wanted to die. And, oh, he did. But he was too chicken. Instead he just tortured himself with what could be, painless darkness, nothingness. He tortured himself with that damned razor, the one that was stained with invisible tears and blood.

He wanted to die so bad.

He couldn't though. He just walked into the bathroom, picked up that razor and shed himself of clothing. He never once looked in the mirror, for it would show what a monster he really was. Twirling the razor in his fingers, he stared at the wall, trying to convince himself that this isn't necessary. That this is the last time. But he couldn't.

He looked down at his hips, covered in faint white scars and angry red cuts. New ones from yesterday. His hips were once beautiful, now they are just a reminder of how selfish he was. Once a blank canvas, now a pretty picture of the sins that he had committed. With a deep breath, he positioned the razor on his hip, pressing hard into the skin, and drew it across himself quickly.

He got frustrated with how slowly the blood was coming up, how small the red lines are, how little it hurt. He wanted more.

He craved more.

He drew the razor across his hips again and again, not bothering to wipe the blood this time. He liked how thick the blood was, how it ran down his leg and created a pretty painting of evil. He loved how much it hurt.

With mechanical actions, he wiped the blood away, feeling a faint pang of regret at removing such a pretty picture. He cleaned the razor and put it back in the cabinet. He redressed himself, making sure to irritate the cuts as little as possible. And then the guilt set in.

Guilt for what he had done. Guilt for breaking a promise yet again. Guilt for not dying. Tears started streaming down his face, dripping onto the floor as he sank to his knees, so ashamed. Oh, he wanted someone to just tell him it will all be alright. But no one will do that. No one cares enough.

He got back up and grabbed the razor once more, with renewed vigor, not caring that it sliced the pad of his thumb. With shaky hands, he broke the head of it and pried the cheap plastic apart to reveal his prize. Three slightly blood stained razor blades fell onto the counter, tinkling merrily as it hit. Grabbing one with trembling fingers, he stared at the dull metal, breathing hard and completely aware of what he was about to do.

He slid his sleeve up, revealing his pale arm. He laughed quite madly as he carved a meaningless saying into his arm. _I'm sorry._ Grinning with delight, he slashed at his arm, marring the pale canvas, but making sure that the words were clearly visible. The smile faded as he punctured his arm, in the crook of his elbow, right by the words. Shoving it as deep in as he can, he dragged it across the words, those damned meaningless words. Stopping at his wrist, he left the razor blade in his arm, not caring that it hurt worse than his broken heart.

He liked that.

Knees buckling, he gripped the counter, trying to stay upright. After a mere three seconds, he fell to the ground, hitting his head along the way. But he didn't care. He held his arm above his head and closed his eyes as the blood poured from the wounds and onto his face. Lowering his arm to the ground, he smirked weakly. And it was then he blacked out from the pain and blood loss, pale teal hair splayed on the floor.

As he fell into darkness, the young boy thought of his lover, how the purple haired samurai might miss him, and those damned words that caused all of this in the first place.

"You mean nothing to anyone."

"You're worthless."

"You're a waste of air."

"Go do us a favour and kill yourself."

And so he did.

**A/N**

**732 words without the authors note. Wow. This literally took about twenty minutes. Tell me what ya'll think. This is based off of my life and Axel. I cried while writing this. **

***sighs***

**Well, that's it. **

**Mikuo is out.**


End file.
